Remorse

By: Cre Mills
Nevaeh


Have you ever been stuck in a world of silence, without a way to escape? A place where no matter how high you search or how hard you try, you’re trapped and drowning in despair? Screaming to be released, but no one can hear you or they simply do not care? You see the evilness of the world and want to run away, but no place is far enough because they find you in the end. When they do, they bend you to their ways and stain your hands in blood, laughing as you cry out in agony, calling you weak as they beat you. You try so very hard to not let it break you, but they find the key to your sanity and snatch it all away. And as time goes on, you’ve done so much wrong that you start to get confused because there was a time when you could tell the difference between them and you. But as you look in the mirror now, it’s their face that you see and you tell yourself that it’s necessary to save the ones you love.

I can hear the voices of the lives I've taken each night when I close my eyes. I see their faces and hear their cries, but I cannot give them peace. They beg for me to help them as I’m begging their forgiveness, because I have to hurt them to save my sister, my best friend, my twin. She’s all I have in this cold, cruel world, so I’ll protect her to the end. I suffer in silence so that she will never know what it feels like to sell your soul to the devil. Doing his bidding has left me with a sense of filthiness which no amount of scrubbing can cure. I’m tainted beyond redemption and I’ve accepted my fate, but his latest victim had an innocence like I’ve never known, and I tried to save her from his wrath. Of course, he found out and promised us both an agonizing death. I thought he was bluffing, but as I’m cuffed to a chair and staring into his soulless eyes, I see that he was telling the truth. This is what happens to me when I try to do what’s right.

He sees me scanning the room, looking for a way to escape and laughs because the only way out of this room is by death, or him releasing me. Looking up at my father, I see the torment he’s ready to cause, and I panic. I buck in the chair, trying anything to free myself, but it’s a futile attempt. He laughs harder when he sees what I’m doing and shakes his head at me. He picks up a container off the floor and lifts it above my head and pours. I close my eyes and hold my breath to prevent any from getting in my eyes, mouth, or nose. Tossing the can to the side he takes a step back, smiling, because he knows I can’t hold my breath for long. After a few measly seconds, I take a deep inhale because I’m in dire need of oxygen and immediately regret it because the smell of gasoline is overpowering and sends me into a coughing fit.

My father loves setting people on fire and today I seem to be his person of choice. He pulls a pack of matches out of his pocket, tears one off and lights it. He holds the match in front of himself and says, “You have two options and that’s it. Do what the fuck you’re told or get burned alive. Do you understand?”

I stare blankly at him, not wanting to do the horrible deed I know awaits me if I agree. It’s probably what landed me here in the first place. I’d have to be either dumb or have a death wish to keep rebelling against him, but I refuse to be the mirrored image of the monster standing in front of me. Shaking his head while making a tsking sound, he inches the match closer to me as I start to buck in the chair again.

“Do. You. Understand?” He slowly annunciates each word. I nod my head. “Good.”

He blows out the match and flicks his head towards his friend. Steve, being the sick, sadistic fuck that he is, pulls something from behind his back. When he sets it on my lap, I can see it's a serrated knife. Turning, he walks towards a filing cabinet. He gathers what he needs and then makes his way back toward me and my father. He's carrying a mouth gag and a bottle of clear fluid that resembles insulin and a syringe.

My father snatches my head back and the gag is shoved in my mouth. “Bite down, sweet Nevaeh, this will sting like a bitch.”

He wipes my arm and then injects the liquid into my veins. I bite down on the gag because my entire arm feels like it’s on fire and causes my jaw to lock. He removes the needle and I immediately feel the effects of the drugs. The beat of my heart slows and I gasp for air. I’m trying not to panic, but it’s hard when you’re fighting for your next breath. I tell myself that it’ll last a few more seconds, then the pain will end. The drugs will work their way into my system and then I can breathe again. Every time I wake up in one of these warehouses, I know what to expect. It’s a recurring cycle, but no matter how many times I go through this, I will never get used to the feeling of being suffocated.

A few seconds later, I can breathe again and I’m pulling in deep breaths like I’ve been underwater for hours. My head is yanked back and I close my eyes to fight the anger I feel building inside of me. Leaning down in my face, Steve grabs me by my neck and licks my tape-clad lips. I try to jerk away, but he has a tight grip and I can’t move. He releases me after one last peck. Grabbing the knife, he drags it across my throat and around to my back, where my hands are tied. He cuts through the ropes and snatches the duct tape from my lips, removing skin in the process.

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